


Yak Butter Tea

by Fishyz9



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:50:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishyz9/pseuds/Fishyz9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonny POV. Sonny makes Will some homemade yak butter tea. Whether it’s salty and delicious as he claims is up for debate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yak Butter Tea

Yak butter, believe it or not, is not that easy to come by unless you live in Tibet (or have your own yak). Well, as it turns out I don’t live in Tibet, I live in Salem and I run a fairly successful coffee house, even if I do say so myself. A coffee house that is about to become approximately fifty percent more awesome now that my specially ordered yak butter has finally, finally arrived. Now, I’ve never actually made it before, but the YouTube instruction video I watched made it look simple enough and I am quite adept at the whole coffee, beverage making thing. So, I’m fairly confident that this will knock Will’s socks off, who has so kindly offered to be my guinea pig on this occasion. My gorgeous, kind hearted, height-fearing guinea pig.

Now, said guinea pig, having finished his shift at the pub is presently flipping the closed sign for Common Grounds and waiting patiently for me on one of the sofas whilst I work my magic behind the scenes. I think I’ll keep the fact that I’ve managed to burn myself twice whilst making this tea to myself, even if it is Will’s fault. There’s just something about the way he wears that white, long sleeved T-shirt that distracts me. I mean, I know it’s the pub’s uniform, and on anyone else it’s just a shirt. But on Will? On Will it just clings to that incredible torso. It makes his eyes look even bluer and his smile even more endearing and…I have got to stop thinking like a teenage girl. I’m even annoying myself. I’m a dude. He’s a dude. We’re both just two guys who –oh forget it. He’s hot and I’m in love. There. Now back to the tea, Jackson.

I look at my list. Bring water to boil? Check. Add the tea and boil for five minutes? Ouch and Check. Remove tea bags? Check. Melt butter and put into blender? Check and check. Add the boiling mixture, salt and milk to the blender? Done and done. Now, all that’s left is to pour the tea into the traditional Tibetan mug accumulated from my travels, and to serve to one excessively handsome boyfriend.

Pouring it into the mug, I’m careful not to spill as I carry it out from the kitchenette and to the front of the coffee house where Will is – I stop, and can’t help but sigh, and smile a little. I told him to make himself comfortable and what is he doing? He’s collecting used mugs and wiping down the tables.

“I hope you know you’re not getting paid for that.” I tease him. And the smile he shoots me has its usual effect on me. I readjust my careful grip on the mug.

“I’m not?” He looks around and then casually throws the dishcloth onto a table. “To hell with this, then.”

I shake my head and let out a breathy laugh as he approaches me. It’s strange how someone I’m completely comfortable around can still make nervous. I think it might be the way he looks at me. Like I’m the only person in the room, which…okay, right now I am, but…he makes me feel more than a little special, is what I’m saying.

“I figured if I was to lend a hand then I’d have you to myself all the sooner.” He smiles.

“That’s some sound logic right there.” I nod, and then smile brightly. “Ready to be my guinea pig?”

He grins. “O-kay” he says dubiously as he takes a seat at the nearest table. As he’s sitting he casts me another one of those lopsided grins. “Even if you did just technically call me a pig.”

I try not to snort. “You don’t like pet names?”

He lets out a small laugh. “They’re okay, but you bypassed ‘snookums’ and ‘muffins’ and went straight to pig.”

I set the mug down in front of him and shake my head. “Guinea pig. There’s a difference.” I sit down, eager to see what he makes of the tea and at the same time enjoying the doubtful look he’s casting its way. “You can give me a pet name if it makes you feel better.”

“You already have one, beautiful.” He says softly, turning the mug slowly as he studies the pattern, completely missing what I’m sure isn’t a very masculine flush to my cheeks. “This isn’t one of the coffee house mugs, is it?”

“Nope, I picked that up when I was travelling.”

“There’s no handles.”

“I know, but you won’t burn your hands, promise.”

He nods his head; still studying the mug in what I’m now sure is nothing more than an attempt at putting off actually tasting the tea. “You wimping out on me?” I tease.

He looks up with a mixture of false injury and genuine amusement. “Hey, man. If I can climb a hundred feet up in the air –”

“Ten feet. It was ten feet, Will.” No one should be allowed to be this adorable.

“If I can climb up a big, dumb, fake wall – which, by the way? Wasn’t all that sturdy – then I can drink some weird…yellow…buttery…thing.”

I roll my eyes, trying not to laugh as I lean my elbow on the table, resting my chin in my hand. “Come on, I want to know if it’s good.”

“You haven’t tried it?”

“Not yet, no. I made this batch for you.”

I think for a second he’s about to tease me some more, but then there’s this soft look in his eyes, and he murmurs a quiet ‘okay’, before taking a careful sip. I watch closely for his reaction, eager to see if I have him onboard with my eclectic taste in beverages or not. His brows rise towards his hairline as he swallows the mouthful, nodding his head.

“That’s, um…”

“Yeah?” I ask eagerly.

He looks at me, clears his throat. “It’s, um…like you said. Delicious.”

I can’t help the pleased smile that spreads across my lips. “Can you taste the salt?”

“Oh yes. Yes, I can taste the salt.”

He looks at me, smiles an oddly crooked smile and shakes his head slightly before taking another sip. I’m not entirely sure why, but I find myself beyond pleased that he likes it. I love sharing things with Will. Seriously. Every time I try something new myself, or observe practically anything of interest, the first thing I find myself wanting to do is to tell Will about it. And I know I’m a few years older than him, but honestly, it’s nothing. When I’m with him, there’s this constant feeling of being on an even keel. As if I know I’m standing next to my match who, whilst we don’t agree on everything, is the person – the only person – who has me constantly preoccupied with thoughts of him.

That’s not to say it’s always plain sailing between us. I mean, sometimes I worry that there’s something…I don’t know, weighing him down? He can just seem distracted at times, but then if I say anything, if I give voice to the strange feeling in my gut, it’s like I’m bringing him out of a slumber and then he’s there again. Smiling at me.

“Done. All done.” He says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and letting out a deep breath as if he’d just chugged the entire thing.

“You finished it all?” I ask, surprised. He must have been thirsty.

He slumps back against his seat, holds his fist in front of his mouth whilst he clears his throat, and then holds the mug upside down. “Yep. Drank it all. Every drop. You want to get out of here?”

“Hold up one sec…” I get up and go into the back, finding the blender with the remaining tea. This time, instead of pouring it into another mug, I just take the blender with me. When I get back to the table, Will has one arm through his jacket. He catches my eye, sees the blender and pauses.

“Um…”

I smile as I refill his mug, happy to have made him something he enjoyed so much. “There’s this Tibetan custom, see, when a guest is drinking yak butter tea, the host will actually constantly refill the bowl to the brim. That way, the guest never drains the bowl.”

“But…that’s a lot of tea.” He nudges his coat back off, looking down at the mug.

“Well, if the guest doesn’t want to drink it then they leave it untouched until right before they leave, and then drain the bowl.”

“Ah. That’s…okay.”

“Don’t worry,” I lean across the table, press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll make this for you any time.”

He looks at me again and this time I can’t quite read his expression. His smile begins at the corner of his mouth, and he’s shaking his head again, clearly amused by something. He lets out a quiet laugh and I have to confess, the look he’s giving me? It warms me all the way through. Because he’s looking at me not like I’m the only person in the room anymore, but like I’m the only person in his world. It’s a look like that, that makes my mouth go dry. It’s a look like that, that makes me happy to be exactly who I am.

“Okay,” he says, clearly trying not to laugh as he raises the mug to his lips. He takes another sip, swallows, and then he’s grinning again. “You kill me, Sonny. You really do.”

“What?” I ask. His amusement – though befuddling – is infectious. I can’t help but grin as he chuckles to himself, but I’m getting the distinct impression that I’m missing something.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, clearing his throat and then taking another, almost tentative mouthful.

“Weirdo.” I mutter affectionately. “Oh, hey…” I lift the blender, gesturing for him to hold his mug out. “We might as well follow custom.”

“Oh. Um…no. No that’s okay.” He practically shields his mug from me.

“Wh– quit being weird.” I laugh. “Gimmie.” I order. “It’s tradition.”

His hand covers the top of the mug. “In Tibet. It’s a tradition in Tibet. We’re in Salem and I have enough tea.”

I squint at him. “You’re being sneaky.”

Blue eyes go wide in mock innocence. “No I’m not.”

I eye the mug. And then I feel stupid. “Let me try that.”

He pulls the mug against his chest, turning slightly away from me. “No.”

I move forwards, holding my hand out. “Let me –” I laugh in surprise when he pulls away from me. “Will!”

“Nope! Sorry, I-uh…” He quickly brings the mug to his lips and downs the contents with what I can now clearly see is a grimace. He lets out a deep breath when he’s finished, licking his lips. “Sorry, I just…I- I really liked it.”

“Will,” I say flatly, holding up the blender with the last of the tea inside.

“Oh.”

I frown, reach for his empty mug and pour the last of the tea into the mug. When I bring it to my lips he tries to stop me, but with one look he winces and slumps back against his seat with a quiet laugh and a regretful shake of his head.

I take a mouthful, and then do my very best not to spit it straight back out. Actually…forget that. I quickly turn and spit it back into the mug, immediately covering my mouth with my hand. “Wholly crap.”

“I’m sorry” he chuckles.

“I uh…” I cough into my fist. “I think I put too much salt in it.”

Will tips his head back and laughs, his arm resting over his stomach. “Aw, Sonny. What are you doing to me, man?”

“I promise that’s not how it’s supposed to taste.”

He stands, walks over to me and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into a hug. I let my head slump pitifully onto his shoulder and can’t help but grin reluctantly when he laughs at me. His hand rubbing my back takes away any embarrassment, and I find myself chuckling along with him.

“Thank God I tried that on you first before unleashing it on the customers.”

He snorts. “Oh, so it’s okay to poison your boyfriend?”

I shrug, teasing him. “It’s okay to poison guinea pigs.”

“Again with the pig comment!” He laughs.

I pull my head back to look at him, and loosely wrap my arms around his shoulders. “Guinea pigs are cute.” I insist, enjoying his forced scowl.

He shakes his head, grinning and just looking at me for a few seconds. “No,” he says quietly. “You’re cute.”

I try my best not to react to his words, but it’s difficult not to. I let my hand slide against the nape of his neck, playing with the short, blond hair there. I bite my lip to stop myself from telling him exactly how he makes me feel.

“You drank two mugs of that swill.”

He grimaces. “Yeah, don’t remind me.”

I wince in sympathy and press a soft kiss to his lips. “You could have said it tasted like crap, you know.”

He hums, tilting his chin up in a silent request for another soft kiss and there’s no denying him. When our lips part again, he’s got this secretive little smile on his lips.

“No, I couldn’t have. Not when you were looking at me like that.”

“Careful…that’s kind of romantic.”

“I think you took a leaf out of your uncle’s book today.”

“And bye bye romance.” I laugh.

He snorts, hugging me closer, swaying us slightly. “Seriously, that eggnog?”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, the guy likes his booze. But I think we can agree that I’m usually quite good at the whole beverage making stuff.”

“I don’t know, I always order the same thing. You might suck for all I know.”

“Keep talking, Horton. Keep talking.”

He grins, and slowly walks me backwards a few steps until I’m pressed gently against the wall.

“Just what to do you think you’re doing?” I murmur, unable to look away from his lips. 

He doesn’t answer me. He just smiles, and lifts one hand to reach for something next to my head. His lips touch mine, and our eyes close just as his hand finds the light switch, and submerges us into darkness.

It’s winter, so it’s dark outside. Without the light it’s dark inside, too. And this is what I love most at this moment. For just this second, my most favorite thing in the whole world is just me and Will, alone, kissing in the dark.

By the time he pulls his lips away, just a fraction, I’m breathless and my hand is bunched up in the back of that white shirt of his. “I don’t know where you learned to kiss like that.” I breathe, and I’m not embarrassed to say my voice isn’t completely steady.

He smiles; I can just about make it out in the dark. It’s strange how the dark can make a room feel quiet. I can hear him breathe, and I can feel the heat coming off of him. I’d like to say I can taste him but that damn yak butter tea–

“I learned from you,” he murmurs. “You were my first real kiss.”

“Come on.” I scoff quietly. “Remember Gabi? That one dude under the arch?” I tease.

And almost immediately I wish I hadn’t. Just the mention of her name and something flickers in his eyes. It’s dark, but I can still see it. I’m torn. Something’s bothering him – playing on his mind. But every time I come close to it, something inside of me tells me to back away. I tell myself it’s for his benefit that I do so, but…is that true? Am I respecting his process, or am I protecting myself? Is there something there that I’m just not ready to hear? Not ready to see?

Before I can follow that train of thought his lips are on mine, more forceful than before. Almost desperate, in fact. When he pulls away we both suck in a quick breath, and I know the air has shifted around us. Our chests are pressed against one another, rising and falling in the same rhythm. I see his throat work as he swallows hard.

“You were my first real kiss. My first real kiss, Sonny.”

I wet my lips, completely and utterly caught up in whatever it is he’s trying to convey. I am so helplessly tangled up in him that I don’t know what I’ll do if he ever pulls away.

“You were sure as hell the first person I ever wanted to make love to. I swear.”

There’s a catch in his voice when he says that, and I know that there’s something I’m not hearing, but there’s no fathoming it. Not without risking what’s right here, in my arms. For the first time in my life, I’m afraid to approach this thing – whatever it is – head on. But then, I’ve never been so lost to another person before, either.

Instead, I reach for something to say. Something honest. Something that will calm whatever it is that’s raging through him and causing him this disquiet. “I’ve…I’ve never been this vulnerable in all my life, Will. I am so yours. I am so yours that it’s terrifying.”

His breath stutters and his hand rises to touch my cheek. His brows arch together almost sadly and he brushes his nose alongside mine. He voice is gruff, but whisper quiet, his breath warm against my lips when he speaks.

“Me too” he whispers, and nods his head. And suddenly it’s him reassuring me. “Me too. I never expected this…” He shrugs helplessly, unable to find the right word. “I never even knew this existed. But damn if it isn’t the most perfect thing.”

There’s a lump in my throat and I don’t even know why. “Tell me you lo–”

“I love you.” He gasps, and then presses me bodily into the wall, his lips firm and warm and amazing against mine. “I love you” he whispers again.

Something’s coming. I don’t know what, but it’s just a feeling I can’t ignore any more. I don’t know if I should be bracing myself or rushing towards it. I don’t know if staying quiet is protecting Will or hurting him. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe my subconscious is merely trying to find the inevitable fault in what feels like perfection when I’m with Will. All I know is that, right now? Here with him, in the dark, in the quiet, we have something not to be taken for granted.

I can’t protect him with my words, not yet. So for just now, I’m going to make him feel safe with my body.

With my every look.

With my every heartbeat.


End file.
